


It's an honest mistake to make

by thefatesallow (comewhatmay)



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, Humour, M/M, episode reaction fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comewhatmay/pseuds/thefatesallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on <a href="http://alianne.tumblr.com/post/81662909536/no-but-really-if-someone-could-write-a-fic-in">this</a> text post: A fic in which Kurt and Blaine are having a pillow fight behind their privacy curtain and all of their roommates get super embarrassed because they think they’re listening to the boys having really loud, really enthusiastic sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's an honest mistake to make

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AntarcticBird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntarcticBird/gifts).



> Hope you enjoy! Fluff is my favourite genre to write <3

Sam has no problem with gay dudes. He really likes gay dudes. Hell, his best bro is gay and they are totally  _bros_ , you know?

But Sam does wish he didn’t have to lie on the couch listening to his best-bro-gay-friend and his fiancé get it on on a Saturday night.

But let’s start at the beginning.

He and Blaine moved into the loft about a month ago and so far it’s been great. Sam still has no clue how to get into this modelling gig and he’s sort of freeloading on the couch for now, and yeah all that kinda sucks.

But Blaine’s been so excited and happy about NYADA (and going to NYADA with Kurt) and New York (and being in New York with Kurt) and living on his own (and living on his own with Kurt), it’s hard to be broody about his own clueless life right now, when his best friend is so happy about everything. Sam’s always been easy to cheer up and even breathing the same air as Blaine could probably cheer anyone up right now. Like, even more than usual.

Sam thinks Blaine might be giving out happy hormones, like people say you give out sex hormones when you’re attracted to someone. If that’s possible… he doesn’t know really, he never was good at biology.

But whatever hormones Blaine’s giving out definitely seems to work on Kurt ‘cause boy, they have a lot of sex. The first week here Sam, Rachel and Artie did the tourist thing and went all around the city, just so they could stay away from the loft as much as possible.

You wouldn’t guess it looking at them; they always seem so cutesy and fade-to-black like one of those black-and-white movies Kurt and Rachel insist they watch on movie night. But really, they have a ridiculous amount of sex. Sam almost feels jealous sometimes. (Okay, a lot of times.) He also resists the urge to fistbump them every time because one time he did that, it embarrassed the hell out of them both and Kurt refused to make him cookies for a week. And Kurt’s _cookies_ , man.

So it’s been a month and he’s more or less okay with the whole I-know-exactly-what-Kurt-and-Blaine-doing-in-there-right-now thing. Comes with living in a shared loft with two dudes who are stupidly in love and also newly engaged. Sam totally gets it.

But they are usually somewhat conscientious about the fact that  _other people_  live with them. If they are ever loud, they certainly don’t do it like that when someone else is in the loft. Sure, there’s the occasional stifled moan or quiet happy laughter late at night, but that’s just kinda sweet really. It isn’t intrusive.

Whatever’s going on in there right now  _definitely_  is though.

There’s a high-pitched shriek from Kurt followed by a loud thump. Blaine groans but it sounds muffled and the bed creaks, loudly. Sam rolls over, trying to squish the pillow around his ears. It doesn’t help.

There’s a loud hiss just over his left ear and he lets out a soundless yell, nearly falling backwards off the couch in fright.

When he finally manages to right himself, he finds Rachel standing there, hair in curlers and face covered in some sort of green goop. With the comb she’s brandishing like a sword and the wide-eyed manic annoyance, she looks vaguely alarming. Sam clutches his pillow tight to himself for protection.

“What did you do?” she hisses angrily, getting right up in his space. Sam yanks the pillow higher, flimsy barrier that it is. Rachel is scary okay. “Did you get them drunk when you went out with them tonight?”

“No,” he protests vehemently. “Kurt had like, one wine-cooler and Blaine didn’t even have that! Why do you think it’s my fault!”

“Because they are both complete gentlemen and nothing except inebriation or outside influence would make them impolite enough to engage in loud sexual activities when they  _know_  they have a Broadway star living with them, who needs her beauty sleep and has rehearsals ten hours a day and cannot afford to be disturbed so  _rudely_ in the middle of the night, so obviously it is somehow your fault!”

She says the whole thing without even pausing. Sam really marvels at her breath-control sometimes.

He’s about to protest his innocence more, but is interrupted by a particularly loud groan followed by more vigorous bed-creaking and breathless laughter.

“Okay I need at least ten more white noise machines,” Artie says, rolling out from his corner of the loft, blearily rubbing his eyes. “As a budding director, I appreciate passionate displays in all its forms, but this is really loud.”

Sam thinks it’s unfair those two are complaining so much, when he’s the one kipping on the couch  _right outside_  Kurt and Blaine’s room.

There’s a brief scuffle from inside and Kurt laughs, high and wild. “Aha!” Blaine’s breathless voice floats out. “I win. You’re not going anywhere, Mr.Hummel.”

Sam makes a mental note to help Blaine work on his flirty voice.

Kurt starts to retort but his voice cuts off followed by what is obviously kissing. They hear soft, breathless “I love you”s and “I’m so happy”s and Sam can feel a low blush start at the back of his neck. It feels like they are intruding on a private moment. Well a particularly private moment in the middle of loud sex.

Things go quiet for a little while and Rachel, Artie and Sam all stare at each other, lone birds feelings equal parts awkward and longing in the face (ear?) of near-marital bliss.

Then there’s another muffled  _whump_  and a “Kurt, that’s not fair, that’s fighting dirty _– ahh!_ ” from Blaine, and suddenly they’re right back to bed-creaking, headboard-banging, muffled yelling/groaning territory and the atmosphere outside goes from awkward to soul-crushingly embarrassing very quickly.

“We need to have words with them,” Rachel whispers furiously, half-inaudible in the ruckus from in there. “While I find it very sweet that they have such passion and excitement for each other, they have to understand that they are  _sharing_  a living space and as such there are _boundaries_.”

“We do need to impress the concept upon them, yes,” Artie says, adjusting his glasses and wincing at the “Blaine! _Ohmygod_ –“

Sam is deeply pondering whether the loss of cookies for a week is worth fist-bumping Blaine tomorrow anyway to express how impressed he is (coz really, that is definitely  _good_ sex no matter how awkward it is for the rest of them and bros should always express appreciation over bros getting laid, its in the rulebook), when he becomes aware of Rachel and Artie staring at him with their creepy, I-am-scheming-something faces.

“What?” Sam asks, raising his pillow again in defence.

“You should talk to them,” Rachel proclaims, poking him right in the pillow with a tiny finger. “Tell them tomorrow that we’d appreciate a little discretion while we’re all in the loft!”

“You’ve shared living space with Kurt before and you’re Blaine’s best friend,” Artie says, grinning at him with his I’m-still-scheming-something face. “You are obviously the best candidate for this.”

Sam protests, vehemently. His technique in vehement protesting obviously needs tweaking because for the second time that night it fails him.

Rachel pets him on the head like she would a golden retriever puppy before skipping off to her corner of the loft and Artie gives him a semi-apologetic shrug before wheeling off to his corner of the loft.

Sam, who is corner-less and stuck on the couch outside the curtain-door of his best friend having wild sex, slumps back onto the lumpy cushions and tries to sleep through the muffled giggling coming from in there now.

He wishes he could have one of those cookies right now.

*

When Sam finally rolls awake the next morning, Kurt and Blaine are already up and sitting at the breakfast table, digging into what looks like Blaine’s authentic blueberry pancakes. Sam loves Blaine’s blueberry pancakes, they are delicious. As delicious as Kurt’s cookies. Yum.

Kurt and Blaine are dressed in crinkled jammies and look thoroughly rumpled. The loft is quiet apart from them; Rachel and Artie must still be asleep.

Sam sighs and straightens, girding himself for his task. Better jump right into it then.

“Hey dudes,” he says, pulling up a chair at the table and dropping onto it. They both nod amiably at him in creepily synchronized nods and he blinks at them for a second, transfixed, before he shakes himself out of it.

“Sooooo,” he drawls it out, trying to figure where to start doing the jumping right into it thing. Kurt raises an eyebrow while Blaine blinks and smiles politely at him, waiting.

“Okay this is awkward no matter where I jump in,” Sam whooshes out, before raising his right fist and holding it out to them. “Congrats, dudes.”

“Congrats for what, Sam?” Blaine asks, though he bumps the fist readily enough. Kurt just sips his coffee, staring at the hand disdainfully.

“For the sex of course,” Sam expands. “It wasn’t much fun listening to you two go at it all night, but I do feel happy for you both.” There, that’s a good jump-in point. Positive compliments, before getting to the complaints.

The reaction is kinda confusing though. Kurt is sputtering, his face is bright red now. Blaine just gapes, mouth wide open.

“What?” they both ask simultaneously, still doing that creepy, synchronized-moving thing.

“Last night? With all the creaking and the moaning? You guys woke up Rachel and Artie all the way across the loft and that is  _with_  their white noise machines on. No way I was gonna miss hearing it, camped out on the couch.”

Kurt’s face looks rather purple now. Sam doesn’t think that’s a good colour for a face to be going.

“Though I do admire the stamina, coz you guys were at it for over an hour wow – is it all the bendy exercises you both do every morning? But really, while as a bro I totally appreciate that, Rachel and Artie voted me to tell you guys to maybe tone it down a little when the rest of us are around so that –“

“Oh my god Blaine please make him stop talking,” Kurt moans, slumping forehead-first on the table.

Blaine reaches out and tentatively puts a hand around the back of Kurt’s neck.

“Um, Sam,” he starts, looking rather violently pink himself. “We weren’t having sex last night.”

“What? Of course you were. We could all hear it. The groaning and the bed creaking and the flirting.  _Good_  one by the way.” Sam raises his fist again hopefully in Kurt’s direction, but Kurt just moans, thumping his head again on the table with a painful-looking bang.

Blaine concernedly coaxes Kurt to raise his head, examining his forehead and running a soothing thumb over it before turning to Sam. He’s still rather pink around the ears and a blush sits high on his cheeks.

“Sam, we weren’t having sex last night,” Blaine says primly, straightening a spoon on the table. “It was a pillow fight.”

“A what?” That is ridiculous.

“A pillow fight!” Kurt snaps, frowning his you’re-never-getting-a-cookie-from-me-ever-again expression. Sam’s heart sinks. He really, _really_  loves those cookies. “Where two individuals attack each other with pillows and roll around giggling like preteens at a slumber party!”

“Guys, you don’t need to lie about it. Like I said, I totally appreciate two bros getting laid and I only request that you two keep the kinkier things for when the rest of us aren’t around –?“

“Oh my god, we’re not lying! It was just a pillow fight!” Kurt screeches.

Sam looks to Blaine for confirmation, and Blaine nods vigorously.

Sam feels vaguely let down for some reason. If two guys who are engaged and in-love and sharing a bed don’t have a wild sex life, what are  _his_  chances in the world?

“So all that giggling and whispering two nights ago was a pillow fight too?” he asks disconsolately. The universe has failed him.

They both blush furiously again. Kurt attempts to hide his face inside a cereal bowl.

“Um Sam” Blaine clears his throat, tomato-red. “That,” he coughs, “was not exactly… ahem… a pillow fight, no.”

The universe makes sense again.

“Right on!” Sam exclaims enthusiastically, offering a hopeful fist in Kurt’s direction for the third time. Kurt just trains a baleful glare at it. Sam retracts his hand slowly.

There’s an awkward silence while Kurt tries to drown in his cereal bowl and Sam grabs for the pot of coffee, pouring himself a mug.

It’s broken by a quickly stifled giggle from next to them.

Kurt slowly raises his head, staring incredulously as Blaine tries to contain another impending giggle.

“Sorry,” Blaine chokes out. “I’m just trying to imagine Rachel and Artie’s faces while they stood around thinking we were having wild, loud sex in there.”

Kurt’s face goes all scrunchy, like he knows he should look disapproving but is trying hard to contain his own giggles.

“Rachel’s hair was in curlers and she had some kind of green goop on her face,” Sam pitches in with the details helpfully. “By the time she left back for her corner, there were like, ten cracks on her facial mask.”

Kurt’s laughter snorts out of him too. They all spend a good three minutes giggling themselves stupid. It feels wonderful.

“Let’s let them keep thinking that’s what happened,” Blaine hiccups, grinning widely. “Can you imagine how awkward and hilarious they’re going to be, trying to tiptoe around the issue?”

Kurt nods, still giggling. Sam raises a fist for the fourth time that morning.

Blaine readily bumps it again. And after a second, with an exasperated eyeroll and a fond shake of the head, Kurt bumps it too, grinning.

Sam hopes this means he’s definitely getting cookies tonight.

 


End file.
